


Soccer Balls Bounce Back Up

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, Football | Soccer, I legitimately know nothing about soccer go easy on me please, Is it possible for Kuroo to get hotter?, Kenma is a god tier boyfriend, Love, M/M, Mind Numbingly Fluffy, Pretty boys are bad at feelings, Romance, Soccer AU, Suga is Team Mom (TM), Tsukishima has a good brother, YouTuber Kozume Kenma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Japan's Men's National Soccer Team was stocked full of talent like no other in the world. The fastest, smartest, strongest, most skilled players you would find almost anywhere. But Just because they're gods at soccer, doesn't mean they know how to handle relationships, family, and love. When it comes to the real world, they're people just like us.OrThe self-indulgent soccer AU no one asked for.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	1. Prologue: Gold-Coated

**Author's Note:**

> quick disclaimer: i know almost nothing about soccer and this will be incredibly self-indulgent ship-wise. please don't hate on my sports knowledge (or lack thereof).

No matter how many times it happened, Kuroo would never get tired of that feeling. The feeling of victory that sent adrenaline pumping through your veins no matter how tired you were. The feeling that got you moving when you wanted to collapse with the overwhelming fatigue. The feeling where your body was burning up and there was sweat dripping down your face and every muscle fiber burned with over-exertion, but you couldn't lay down. Not yet, not when you had teammates to freak out with. Not when that gold-coated feeling of _winning_ was still coursing through your bloodstream. 

And Kuroo couldn't. He couldn't flop down on the neon grass yet because his body wouldn't let him. Because they were going to the World Cup. And there was nothing like the feeling that flowed through him now. No words to describe the erratic beating of his heart or the way every bone in his body hurt and ached for rest but it was glorious. It was a glorious feeling and it was addictive. The clearest and most potent drug mother nature had to offer. There was only one better feeling. 

And that better feeling came when they exited the field into the halls of the stadium, jerseys clinging to their sweat-soaked bodies, muscles burning, hearts beating, into the almost frigid atmosphere of the air-conditioned hallways. It hit him like a hailstorm of sunshine pouring down on him as he saw his boyfriend, standing there in his red hoodie and ripped jeans and beat-up sneakers. It came when Kuroo saw the genuine smile on his face, fitting on his beautiful lips perfectly, matching the shimmering pride in those honey-golden eyes of his. And nothing could beat out that feeling. The feeling of Kenma. 

Kuroo didn't waste seconds. His fast-paced existence demanded that he not. Before Kenma could even process what was happening, Kuroo was scooping him up so that the smaller boy's arms rested around his boyfriend's broad shoulders and feathering small, heavenly kisses all over his face. Kuroo placed his lips to Kenma's cheekbones and the tip of his nose and his forehead and his temples and his lips. He lingered on those lips that tasted like the most delicious combination of cherry chapstick and Kenma's natural sweetness. God, what was that feeling? What was that perfect feeling that drowned out everything else? That feeling that kept Kuroo standing despite his entire body wanting to crumble from exhaustion? 

Ah, yes. That's it. Euphoria. 

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆


	2. Chapter One: Sleepy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jet-lagged Daichi gets some cuddles.

"Agggaaaasshiiii!" Bokuto knew he shouldn't be complaining seeing as they were literally stepping into one of the most beautiful, decked-out hotels he had ever seen in his life, not to mention the fact that they were literally going to get to compete in the World Cup, but it felt incomplete. It was basically the only thing he had been dreaming of since he started playing soccer when he was five but he couldn't even bring himself to enjoy it because...well...

"I know, Kou, but Karuna has me working the weekend. You know I'll fly in as soon as I possibly can," Akaashi's voice crackled to life on the other end of the phone, calm as ever. Obviously, it had been a big disappointment for both of them that Akaashi's boss (who may or may not have hated him) wouldn't let him off, meaning he would miss the first two weeks of Bokuto's schedule. But med school was a bitch and even Bokuto's contract money wasn't enough to get him out of debt. Plus, Akaashi liked the think of himself as a good boyfriend and he wasn't going to make Bokuto spend his hard-earned money on putting him through school. 

"But I miss you!" Bokuto drawled dramatically as if it would somehow get his boyfriend there any faster. It wasn't fair. Why did everyone else get to have their boyfriends there while he had to wait two weeks? Two fucking weeks? He couldn't even do his own laundry without Akaashi's help! He was going to die!

Bokuto's eyes shot jealously over to his best friend who was resting his chin on his own boyfriend's head as they ventured further into the beautiful building. And, as always, Kuroo caught him, sending the silver-haired man a wry smirk and probably already reading his mind. Since Kenma basically made his own schedule, he was able to follow Kuroo around wherever the soccer player's career dragged him. But Akaashi was basically rooted to the spot. 

"I know, Kou, and I don't like it any more than you do," Kuroo tilted his head just a little so he could stick out his tongue at Bokuto without disturbing the pudding-haired boy who happily stood between the forward's arms. So, of course, Bokuto had to retaliate, momentarily distracting him from the sounds of Akaashi making lunch on the other end of the phone. 

"Okay, but I'm going to talk to you every night and you can't be upset because it's your fault I'm lonely without you," Akaashi's laugh, even through the speaker of a phone that couldn't possibly capture it fully, was musical and the sound of it had Bokuto smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. Akaashi's laugh was a gift, after all, and usually, one reserved only for Bokuto.

"Naturally," Bokuto could just picture it, his boyfriend hastily preparing a lunch that definitely wasn't nutritionally complete. Man, for someone who was literally going to college to study people's health, for someone who harped on his boyfriend to eat a balanced diet, he sure did take piss poor care if himself. "Oh fuck," Bokuto huffed out a frown, already knowing what that tone meant. "I'm about to be very late for my next class, so I have to go. But I'll call you later. Love you, Kou." 

"Love you too, Keiji. And you'd better call me," Bokuto sighed out a smile at the small scoff his boyfriend gave, a near-silent sound that said, "obviously." Bokuto pouted slightly as the call ended, still feeling bitter about the fact that Akaashi was an ocean away. But his sadness didn't last long. His teammates wouldn't allow that and Akaashi would reprimand him for it if he were there. If there was only one good thing that came from them being seperated for a whole fourteen days, it was that at least Bokuto would have to learn how to do his own chores now. Even Suga wasn't going to do those for him.

❈

There were a lot of things to be excited about, especially when it was your first time ever competing in the World Cup. But what Nishinoya and Tanaka were most excited about was the massive pools (yes, plural) that resided in the luxury hotel they would be staying at. Sometimes, they got so giddy that they turned into actual five-year-olds and not even Daichi knew what to do with them. And even though their excitement was almost infectious, it was also incredibly tiring. 

Currently, they were bouncing around like actual children as they felt the need to comment on every single amenity the hotel had to offer. They were freaking out. Over the spa, over the gym, over the pools, over the bar. God, they were snickering about getting drunk even though both of them were well within the legal drinking age. Sometimes Daichi wondered how they were even allowed to be functioning adults, although he didn't voice this question out loud. 

"They're gonna lose their minds when they see the field outback," Daichi's eyes snapped to his boyfriend, who was nudging his muscular shoulder with his elbow and casting him a lopsided smile that made his honey-brown eyes light up. What he said took a moment to process in the captain's jet-lagged brain, the only thing he could think about being how he wanted to wrap himself in Suga's arms and take a twelve-hour nap. But eventually, he managed a belated giggle as he watched his two teammates freak out over everything, even things that weren't that exciting. How they still had energy after a ten-hour flight was beyond him. 

Honestly, Daichi was just thankful that Hinata was out like a light, otherwise, he'd have three overly-enthusiastic children to deal with. It took a special sort of talent to be able to get all the way through customs dead-asleep on your best friend's back, but Hinata had managed to master it. It was one of his many hidden abilities. 

The gold-plated elevator was kind of extra, if Daichi was being completely honest. He knew they were worth a lot of money and he knew they were just trying to provide the best environment for their team, but it felt so unnecessary since they were going to be spending all of fifty seconds actually in it. But he didn't complain. He'd worked his whole life to get here. Plus, after a long flight and an hour-long tour of the (admittedly awesome) facilities all well fighting the fatigue of jet-lag, he didn't really have it in him. 

When they reached the door to their room, Daichi basically fell into it, his body too tired to do much else other than desire to sleep despite the fact the sun was just barely setting and they hadn't eaten dinner yet. Suga followed him in with an adoring smile as he watched his boyfriend flop down face first on the pristine bed. He knew Daichi was exhausted. The entire team must be. And they deserved rest. Hell, they would need it because the minute tomorrow hit, it would be practice time again. 

When Daichi was in college and he'd had to travel for games, he'd always been annoyed whenever they put him with someone else, whenever he was forced to share a room. But currently, he couldn't be happier as he felt Suga's weight beside him and the bed and felt his gentle fingers start to card through his hair. The captain released a low hum at the soothing sensation. Honestly, he could fall asleep right there, body half off the bed, nearly being suffocated by the fresh smell of linen coming off the hotel sheets. 

"You maybe wanna take a shower...or change?" There was a low sound from somewhere in his boyfriend's throat as Suga leaned down to whisper softly in his ear. Daichi could go all day, but the minute his energy drained, he became like a limp noodle. A one-hundred and sixty pounds of pure muscle noodle. "Or at least get all the way on the bed?" Suga coaxed, an adoring smile blooming on his lips as Daichi mumbled something along the lines of, "m'kay but just b'cuz you asked." Suga bit his lips to suppress a grin as the darker-haired man half-heartedly flopped onto his back and looked with syrupy, sleepy eyes as his boyfriend. 

The silver-haired man removed his boyfriend's shoes and situated a thin blanket laying at the end of the bed over him (it would be far too much work to try and get him to move enough to pull the comforter over him) before brushing a hand through his hair and contemplating taking a shower. He could really use it, as tired as he was. Planes never agreed with him and there were knots in his muscles that felt like boulders. That settled it. Shower it was.

"Nooo where're you going?" Suga suppressed a laugh as he started toward the bathroom and heard a whine. Daichi only ever got so physically clingy when he was sleepy or drunk, and both times he treated Suga like a human teddy bear. Not that Suga minded in the slightest. He liked being the only one who got to see the normall composed captain fall apart as needy and whiny. It was the cutest thing that Suga would ever be privileged to. 

"I'm taking a shower," Another groan as though Suga were torturing him. "You know you can go to sleep without me, right?" Secretly, Suga knew Daichi had a stark aversion to falling asleep without his boyfriend curled up in his arms, but he liked hearing the captain say it. Although he did feel a little bad because he knew Daichi would force himself to stay awake until Suga returned. He silently promised the jet-lagged man laying face down on the bed that he'd make it quick. 

❈

It felt like an eternity for Daichi of trying to keep his eyes open despite the overwhelming urge to just fall asleep, but his half-functioning brain was unwilling to accept falling asleep without Suga there. Ever since their freshmen year of college, Suga had been a staple, really the only staple, of his nightly routine. Whatever way his night ended up going, it always ended with Suga next to him, preferably between his arms. 

In the span of the maybe ten minutes max that his silvery-haired boyfriend was in the shower, Daichi had passed out for a few second four times, dropped his phone on his face twice, and accidentally tweeted a single apostrophe, which was getting way more attention than a tweet with literally no content, message, or even words should. It felt like time was moving at a glacial pace, as if slowing down particularly to torment him. 

But eventually, Daichi heard the closing of the bathroom door which was immediately proceeded by a warm hand sliding over his chest. His phone was turned off in discarded in three seconds flat, making the way it was tossed to a fancy chair in the middle of the suite probably the fastest action he'd done all night. And before Suga even had a chance to get situated, Daichi had thrown a lazy arm over him, pulling him closer with the little energy he had left. 

He was so sleepy it almost made Suga's heart burst, and the silver-haired man felt like his chest was going to explode from love just at the fact that Daichi had forced himself to stay awake just so he would be conscious long enough to snuggle Suga. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve Daichi Sawamura, but it must've been something amazing. Because as the captain tucked Suga's head under his chin and released the most contented sigh, he muttered adorable nonsense like, "hmm...pretty pretty Koushi...made me wait...but was worth't...love you Sugie..."

When Suga finally stopped smiling long enough to whisper, "I love you too, Dai," into the crook of his boyfriend's neck, he was pretty sure the captain was dead-asleep. But he didn't mind. He just hoped the man he loved got good sleep. Everyone knew he worked himself too hard, and he deserved to be well-rested. Plus, the next month was going to be simultaneously utterly draining and one of the most stressful periods of their lives, and if Daichi could manage to sleep through the looming anxiety, he was lucky. But despite all these thoughts crowding Suga's brain, it wasn't long until he fell into the perfect sort of dreamless sleep, aided by his boyfriend's steady breaths and his arms wrapped tightly around Suga's smaller frame. 

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unreasonably excited for this story and I don't know why. Also, I know it's starting out slow, please bear with me ಥωಥ. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it so far~ 
> 
> Love, Unicorn-Flowers <3


	3. Chapter Two: Popsicle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo eats a popsicle.

The heat was grueling, a humid sort of heat that felt like someone had laid a damp washcloth over the world and put it in the oven. And the entire team was sweating buckets in the sun with their shirts off, dumping entire bottles of water on their heads just to cool off, even if only momentarily. Kuroo's legs felt like they were going to fall off purely from the number of shots he had taken. Like damn, he loved the game, but there were only so many times you could kick a ball before your thigh muscles started to go numb and it started becoming a chore just to stay standing. 

Man, he was really looking forward to falling into bed while Kenma gently massaged his shoulders and ran those lazy fingers of his through Kuroo's midnight hair...but currently, he was still in the process of trying to score one damn goal on Nishinoya. If asked, Kuroo would swear to you up and down that stupid, five-foot-two, little lightning bolt of energy, somehow had the gift of foresight because despite Kuroo's best attempts (and trust me, they were _good fucking attempts_ ) he hadn't scored a single goal on that man in the literal hours so far they'd been on the field. 

You see, Kuroo was Japan's best striker, maybe the best in the world if you bothered to look at his stats in comparison to the rest of the world, but Nishinoya was the best goalie in the world, and you were fucked the moment you thought you had an opening. You could say that Nishinoya was infamous. In his entire college career, he had only ever let _one_ (1) goal through. Yes, I mean that truly. One singular goal. 

So you can imagine, when you're the best striker in the world going up against the best goalie in the world, it gets pretty frustrating. Especially when you're used to making every shot you take. And Kuroo was starting to get frustrated. Despite what one might think, Kuroo actually got more effective as he got exhausted. The more he sweat, the harder his heart beat, in the moments when fatigue curled around his every muscle fiber, he was unstoppable. But frustration had the opposite effect on his skills. 

"Goddammit! Are you living in the future or something?!" The sound of Kuroo swearing at the goalie who was practically shiny with a layer of sweat coating his bare, lean torso was accompanied by the harsh slapping of yet another ball being completely shut down by Nishinoya's calloused hands. Daichi always had to force him to wear gloves during games, but, contrary to most goalies preferences, Nishinoya hated wearing gloves during practice. The burn of his reddening fingers that accompanied a nearly perfect save was one of the things that made him feel most alive. 

"Maybe you're losing your edge," The lopsided smirk he paired with his words earned him a humorless middle finger from the exhausted striker. But his attempt at covering his own exhaustion with insults toward his hardworking teammate was slowly slipping. Being a goalie was harder than it looked. And while his other teammates spent the entire game running, it didn't mean that Nishinoya was in any way doing less physical work than them. "Dude, you good? Are you gonna pass out?" The goalie wheezed, conveniently ignoring the fact that he wasn't much better off. 

"You try kicking a ball for five hours straight," Kuroo ran a hand through his damp hair as he picked up the cursed ball that was both one of his greatest loves and currently the thing that made his legs want to give out, bouncing it up and down like a basketball as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Nishinoya scoffed, wiping the sweaty hair from his eyes holding it atop his head to keep it out of his face. Normally it was up and spiky, easy to take care of. But when it got damp it was a mess. 

"You try receiving a ball for five hours straight. I can't feel my fucking hands," The goalie complained, but he secretly liked the numbness, the burning sensation, the swollen redness of the callouses lining his hands. I mean really, what other kind of bittersweet pain made you truly feel alive. It was the reason he was still playing the game. 

"Hey! You guys good over there? We're gonna take a break then play a quick game," Daichi announced to the two hardworking players. And the words were a godsend. Kuroo loved soccer. He really did. But his body didn't have the same capacity for love that his brain did and it only took him so far before it needed a break. If Kuroo could play soccer for an entire day without feeling like he wanted to throw up or his muscles just giving up on him, he would, but currently, he felt as mobile as a ton of bricks stuck in cement. "Seriously, are you guys okay? I told you to take a break two hours ago. Can you even still move?" Kuroo hated admitting that Daichi, who was constantly harping on them to give themselves more rest, could actually be right. Thankfully, Nishinoya answered for them.

"We'll get back to you on that." 

❈

Kenma, when it was hot out, was a blessing. Don't get me wrong, Kuroo loved his oversized hoodies and sweaters and his ripped jeans. He loved them to death because he was just so damn cute and he somehow managed to look breathtakingly hot in clothes that covered every inch of that beautiful, rosy skin. But Kuroo _loved it_ when Kenma actually dressed appropriately for summer. When he traded in his oversized clothing for loose tank tops tucked into jean shorts. When he put his hair up into messy buns and threw on flip flops because he was too lazy to so much as put on socks. The streamer was nothing short of breathtakingly beautiful. If only Kuroo could show him off to the rest of the world. But that was an issue for another time. 

"Popsicle," Kuroo was snapped back to reality by his boyfriend holding out a vibrant blue popsicle that was quickly melting in the overwhelming heat. Kenma himself had a strawberry one that was staining his full lips the most deliciously beautiful cherry red color. If Kuroo wasn't otherwise preoccupied with staring, he would taste those lips. It was almost too tempting to resist. But Kenma quickly shoved the popsicle in his face like it was the only thing that would keep him alive. 

The forward took the icy treat from his boyfriend's hands. Kenma always knew just what to do. Of course, Kuroo knew hydration was important, a pivotal part of playing any sport, especially professionally. But it was common knowledge among not only the rest of the team, but also to Kenma that Kuroo never actually properly hydrated himself. So, Kenma had been forced to find alternate ways to get sugar and water into his boyfriend's bloodstream. Popsicles were a good way to do that. Also Gatorade and sorbet. Kuroo liked ninety-nine percent of all things sweet so it wasn't hard. 

"So what are your precious fans going to do while you're babysitting me for a month?" Kuroo swirled his tongue across the surface of the popsicle. Blue raspberry. Kuroo liked blue raspberry. It was objectively the best flavor even though it tasted nothing like raspberry or blue. The soccer player smirked at his boyfriend, licking the sugary sweet syrup off his lips. Kuroo knew his Youtuber boyfriend wasn't completely ignoring his fanbase (I mean, his face was money), but he liked the idea that Kenma was posting less often for him. It made him feel special. 

"Well, for one thing, I'm not completely ignoring them. It's still my job. But because someone doesn't want people to know we're dating..." Kenma rolled those gorgeous honey golden eyes of his and it sent the smallest shockwave of guilt through Kuroo despite knowing he wasn't being completely serious. Kuroo knew in the back of his mind that it was his idea to keep their relationship private, and he knew Kenma didn't actually care, but he still felt bad. The main reason was just because he didn't want all the attention...but more than that, he wanted Kenma completely to himself. Which, Kuroo knew, was stupid at best. At worst it was downright selfish. "I have to pretend like I'm here because I actually like watching soccer."

"Ouch, you don't like watching me play?" The wry smile of Kuroo's face was the only evidence Kenma needed to know he was just messing with him, but the smaller boy still felt the need to clarify.

"I like watching _you_ play. But other teams are boring." 

Their conversation was interrupted by Nishinoya suddenly sidling up to them, sweat-soaked shirt tied around his head like a bandana. He messily squirted water into his wide-open mouth, not actually managing to catch any of it as most of it dribbled down the side of his chin and onto his heaving chest. Kenma frowned at the interruption but turned his attention to the goalie nonetheless. Despite what one may think considering their quite contrary natures, Kenma and Nishinoya actually got along quite well. 

"You know, you guys should stop rubbing it in everyone's faces," there was no real bite behind his words. It was left out in favor of shooting the two boys a lopsided smirk. Kenma looked between the two of them, utterly confused, but Kuroo seemed to catch on immediately, matching the goalie's expression as he bit the tip off of his quickly melting popsicle.

"But it's more fun this way," The inky-haired froward grinned, tipping his head back to that the entirety of the rest of his popsicle slid easily off the stick and into his mouth. Somehow avoiding mind-numbing brain freeze seemed to be one of Kuroo's special talents. In the almost two decades that they'd been best friends, Kenma had never once seen him get brain freeze. Or even show any sign of reaction for that matter. 

"Yeah, but Bo is suffering and I'm pretty sure Tsukki's about to slap that smug smirk off your face," It was true. Tsukishima wasn't as vocal about his dismay as Bokuo, but Yamaguchi wasn't going to be able to fly in for another few days and, to say the least, he was not handling his jealousy well. "Better watch out," The goalie grinned, finally giving up and uncapping the water bottle in his hands. He poured the entire thing on himself, shamelessly shaking his head back and forth like a wet dog.

"What are we talking about?" Kenma interjected, raising an eyebrow at both of them as he continued to eat his popsicle like a normal human being. 

"Bo is having a crisis because Akaashi's gonna be two weeks late. And Tsukki over there is going off the deep end since Yams is going to miss the first game," Nishinoya huffed out an exhausted laugh. Kuroo had to admit that he actually felt a little bad for his teammates. Mainly becuase he knew how comforting and encouraging it was to know there was someone out there supporting you. He wouldn't play nearly as well if he didn't know Kenma was watching him. However, that wasn't going to stop him from thanking his lucky stars that his boyfriend was there with him.

As if sensing his friend's ever so slight guilt, the goalie quickly added, "Don't worry too much about it though. It's actually kinda fun to watch them squirm," Nishinoya and Kuroo shared an almost devilish grin directed toward the two men across the field who were taking a cool-down of their own. And Kenma just shook his head on a sigh. Sometimes the people he chose to be friends with were mind-numbingly stupid.

❈

"So you're not coming then," Tsukishima tried to hold back the disappointment in his voice, but the echo of the empty locker room wouldn't let him forget about the fact that he felt like screaming. He knew he shouldn't be upset. This is just how it was. This was how it always was and he was just being stupid if he tried to convince himself otherwise. But even so, that didn't mean it still didn't make his stomach drop and his eyes prickle. 

"Tsukki, we've talked about this before," His mom had always been the more understanding one in their family, but that didn't mean she was on Tsukishima's side. Even though her voice was soft and her words were gentle, they hid the real reason both parties on either end of the line were feeling the sting of disappointment. The real reason Kei barely had contact with his parents. 

It was no secret that he came from a family of high-achievers. It was basically written into Tsukishima DNA that they were destined for great things, especially academically. His mom was a professor at their local university, a leading researcher in her field. His father was a neurosurgeon, one of the best in the country, renowned for his technical skills and knowledge. And even his brother was just finishing up his residency. It was true. The Tsukishima family was as bright as they came. So you can see why they weren't exactly happy that their youngest son had chosen to play a child's sport for a living. 

It had never been a big issue when he was still in school. Kei got straight A's in every subject all the way through high school and even in college, he had a perfect 4.0. But the question of what he wanted to do with his life had always been a sensitive one, one that sparked great controversy within his family, one that had been left unanswered for the sake of all their sanities for far too long until it snowballed into an inescapable issue. 

Really, it was his parent's fault, at least, that's how Kei saw it. They'd set him up with piano lessons and sent him to a soccer camp when he was just three years old, hoping to train the genius into him seeing as they'd heard what wonders extracurriculars could do for development. And in all honesty, the youngest Tsukishima felt they should've expected as much. If you were going to force a barely sentient child onto a soccer field, you should expect that they were going to fall in love with the sport. You should expect that if you tell a child to do their best, they'll invest their one-hundred percent, all of themselves into it. And that's what Kei did. But it wasn't what his parents wanted. 

How could it be? Soccer was a sport. Where was the academic prowess in that? How was soccer going to get him a medical certification? How was soccer going to earn him an engineering degree? How was soccer going to lay out his future as perfectly as a framed piece of paper from one of the most prestigious universities on the planet? They wanted him to be well-rounded, but they'd turned him into the very monster they'd been hoping to avoid. It was no secret his parents looked down on athletes as dumb, uneducated, useless. And that's where the problem arose. 

Because for the first time in his life, Kei found something to invest himself in because he loved it. Not because his parents would rip him to shreds if he didn't do it, but because he was passionate about it. He couldn't imagine why, but he was addicted to the feeling of running. He was high on the feeling of winning a game surrounded by his teammates, and it wasn't something he could come back from. You can imagine that fact didn't exactly go over smoothly with his parents. 

"You're not going to watch your _son_ play in the _World Cup_?" The question felt stupid as it left his mouth. If he was from any normal family, the answer would be "of course I'm going to watch you!" If he was from any normal family, he would be getting embarrassed as his parents bragged about him to anyone who would listen. If he was from a normal family, they would be there. They would be there to support him, to cheer him on, to rejoice in his victories and mourne his losses. God, if he was from a normal family he wouldn't even have to ask that. But he wasn't. 

"Kei...You know your father's feelings about this," That's right. His father. That was the reason for all of this. Because he couldn't just support his son's successes, he couldn't be happy about the fact that his son was playing in the most prestigious soccer tournament in the actual world. He couldn't even be proud of Kei unless he was doing exactly what his father deemed fit. Unless he fit the mold of a perfect son. And it made Kei angry. It made him so angry. It made him want to scream because why were his achievements any less valid just because they didn't result in a fancy certificate to hang on a wall? 

"Yeah, I do. I do know my father's feelings. But what about my _mother's_ feelings?" The blond couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. He was just so angry because at least his dad had a standpoint. At least his dad knew what he wanted. At least Kei knew that there was no point in talking to his father. But his mom... now his mom was a different story. And she was so much worse because she still treated him like she gave a damn. She still called him to ask him how he was doing, how games were going, if they were winning, but never once did she even try to contradict his father. Not when his dad was cutting him off because "soccer isn't a career." Not when his dad was calling him a fool. Not once. She acted like whatever he did mattered to her, but Kei could tell that it didn't.

"Kei..." Anger shot through him like a bullet at her silence. A snapping sort of anger, a last straw sort of anger, the kind of anger that made you want to put your fist through a wall and scream. But he didn't do either of those things, preferring to express his anger in words. 

"Oh right, sorry. I forgot you're still following dad around like a lost puppy. Whatever he says goes, right?" The bitterness in his voice was evident and for a moment, there was a terrifying static silence on the end. One that felt like it would stretch forever if he said nothing to fill it. But he didn't really have any words. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry I'm a disappointment and a failure as a son in your eyes.'? Maybe. Maybe he should say that, just to make them feel better. But he didn't feel like giving them that satisfaction. And he didn't feel like lying. Because truthfully, he wasn't sorry. He wasn't sorry that he'd followed the only dream he'd ever had. He wasn't sorry for his success in achieving that dream. He wasn't sorry. Not even for his mom. 

The only thing that momentarily broke the strained silence was the sound of Daichi poking his head through the door of the locker room, looking for his missing teammate as they were about to eat dinner. That was one thing Tsukishima had warmed up to recently, the idea of eating dinner as a group. He'd always preferred to eat alone in his room when he still lived at home. But recently it had become much more appealing. 

"I have to go. The team wants me for dinner." And that was the last that either of them had to say about the matter as Tsukki hung up the phone, swallowing the lump in his throat even though it felt like he was trying to swallow sandpaper. Maybe he was a bad son. But he wasn't going to apologize for it. Because if they bothered to look closer, his parents would realize that his life made him happy. He was happy. More than he'd ever been back when he was still chasing A's just for his parent's approval. "...Love you." He barely got the words out, choked and clipped. But he said them anyway. He didn't know why. But he did. 

"Tadashi?" Tsukishima's eyes snapped to the captain who was studying him with stark curiosity. His guess was wrong at best, at worst offensive just judging by the look of defeat that was probably plastered on Tsukishima's features, but the blond knew he had the best intentions. Daichi always did. Which is why he lied simply, saving them both the effort of a look behind the curtain. 

"Yeah." 

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆


End file.
